


a very odd road trip

by blue000jay



Series: drabbles [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Fluff, Road Trips, and things happen but it's okay bc you're all hilarious, when you take your adopted kids and neighbor on a road trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue000jay/pseuds/blue000jay
Summary: “Hey, Phil,” Tubbo asks, an hour and five renditions of Dead or Alive songs later.“Yeah?” Phil asks, and he glances in the rearview. Tubbo’s grinning, leaning forward, hands braced on both Phil and Eret’s seats.“Are we there yet?” He asks.(A road trip piece inspired by Philza's stream today, January 10th. I thought it was funny so I made it into a thing that was too long to be posted as a flash fiction!)
Relationships: Eret & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson
Series: drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103231
Comments: 49
Kudos: 765





	a very odd road trip

**Author's Note:**

> just to clarify for this little piece, phil's adopted the sbi boys + tubbo and ranboo. eret, niki, and fundy are their neighbors who they are close to! and go on road trips with! whoo! pog!
> 
> shout out to @foolocracy_ on twitter for making [this](https://twitter.com/foolocracy_/status/1348427414192402441) piece of art and inspiring me to actually write something instead of just thinking about it :)

“TAKE THE FUCKING GUMMY WORM!”

Phil’s about ready to slam his head into the wheel and crash the damn car if it means he doesn’t have to listen to the two in the back go on about gummy worms any more. When he’d seen Ranboo come out of the gas station with two five-pound bags (“I said twenty dollars, Ranboo--” “They were buy one get one free!”) he could’ve sworn in that moment he could predict the future. Eret’s long-suffering gaze only solidified the idea, and here they were.

Eret’s got his earbuds in but clearly is tuned into the conversation, grinning as he stares down at his phone and taps away. “I hope those weren’t sugar free,” he calls back to the boys in the backseat, and there’s a scramble to check the packaging as the fight takes less priority for the moment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Phil says, but his heart is lifted again when Ranboo shakes his head, visible in the rearview mirror.

“Nope,” he says. “Plenty of sugar in these bad boys.”

“Ranboo, if you do not give me a gummy worm, I swear to god I will piss in your seat!” Tubbo’s voice is loud, and Phil only can stand two words of it before he’s rolling down the window a bit. Outside, the world rushes by and he keeps his eyes on the road, only occasionally peeking in the rearview to make sure no one’s out of their seatbelt.

“Share the fucking worms,” Phil calls out, tightening his grip on the wheel.

“I can drive if you want,” Eret offers, and while it’s a kind one, Phil doesn’t quite trust Eret with this rustbucket. The car’s not in the best shape, but Tommy and Wilbur had stolen the other one last night. Impromptu beach trips were supposed to be fun-- and they were, when they were at the beach. The two-day drive to get there was a little less fun.

“Got it!” Tubbo shrieks, and there’s a gummy worm hanging out of his mouth and a triumphant look on his face. Phil’s already regretting letting them each choose their snacks of choice on the first pitstop. 

“Hour one is over,” Eret says gleefully, and the clock proves him right.

Phil groans. It’s going to be a long trip.

\----

Hours two and three go by like a hellstorm. Ranboo and Tubbo are hopped up on sugar, clearly, after they tear through the five-pound bag like it’s candy. Which, it is. Tubbo debates the ethical ramifications of cannibalism and if people still need to pee in Hell, and Ranboo does nothing but fuel the conversation. Even Eret, who is supposed to be Phil’s savior, here, only serves to help by twisting in his seat and glancing at the boys in the back asking hey, wouldn’t it make sense for people to piss flame?

“Phil,” Tubbo says on hour two and a half. “I have to piss. Fire piss. Can we pull over?”

“No,” Phil says. “Do it in a fucking bottle.”

“We don’t have any empty bottles!” Tubbo cries, thumping his head back on the headrest with a soft thud. Ranboo winces.

“Can he not pee in a bottle? I feel like that’d be really weird for all us,” he says, and Eret shrugs his shoulders. Phil is slightly amused, but Ranboo is also sort of right-- that’d be really weird. So he keeps an eye out for rest stops as they go along, and pulls into the first exit he sees that has one.

“Better be quick,” he tells Tubbo, who’s already unbuckled and halfway out the door before he’s even finished parking. “I’m leaving in two minutes, with or without you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Tubbo calls, singsong, and slams the door shut.

“Would you?” Ranboo asks carefully. As the newest addition to their odd family, he’s been more cautious than anyone else, which makes sense. Phil snorts, then shakes his head carefully.

“No,” he says. “But Tubbo doesn’t know that.”

Two minutes and thirteen seconds later, Tubbo’s back at the car and hopping in, tugging on his seatbelt as Phil pulls out of the parking spot and back onto the highway. Eret starts a singalong four minutes later, turning the radio up to ear blasting frequencies and all of them-- yes, even Phil-- singing along so far out of tune even other cars avoid them on the road. That, or Phil’s driving has gotten so wildly reckless that the next cop car they see is going to immediately switch it’s lights on and pull them over. Regardless, Phil finds himself having a little bit of fun.

Hours four and five are quieter than the rest. Tubbo takes a quick nap for most of hour four and Ranboo, somehow, reads. Phil’s never been able to read in cars (makes him sick) but the kid just hunches over and sticks his nose in a book until Tubbo wakes up, having slept off the sugar crash. Despite having just woken, Tubbo stays quiet for a bit, staring out the window and rolling it down some. Phil has his window down a bit and it’s nice, hearing the rustle of trees and other cars go by. Eret’s also silent, on his phone for the most part.

“How’re Niki and the others?” Phil asks a few minutes into hour five. He assumes that’s what Eret’s been doing. Fundy and Niki and Techno had gone with Wilbur and Tommy in their car, leaving a few hours before Phil and the rest of the gang had.

“They’re good,” Eret says, clicking on something and holding his phone out. When Phil gets a chance to take his eyes off the road for a split second to look, it appears to be a selfie taken by Tommy-- it’s his face blurry in the foreground, with Techno driving the car and Wilbur, Fundy, and Niki bundled up together in the back with their mouths open wide. It looks like they’re singing, or shouting, or some mixture of the two.

Phil feels a bolt of fondness run through him. “Cute,” he says, turning his eyes back to the road and the highway that’ll lead them straight on to the beach. “I’m so glad we haven’t got Tommy in the car.”

“I miss Tommy,” Tubbo pipes up from the backseat. “He’s much more fun.”

“I think if I had both of you back there, I would’ve crashed by now,” Phil says, poking fun. “That, or left you on the side of the road. You want to be left on the side of the road, Tubbo?”

“....no.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Phil laughs a little, glancing in the rearview and catching Tubbo’s half-smile, and lets his own laughter drop off. He’ll stop there for now, and instead, they ride in silence for a minute or two.

“I think my eyes are going wonky,” Tubbo says. He’s staring out the window, forehead pressed to it and eyes blank. “Phil. I think I’m seeing things. Particles. I think I’ve broken my eyes.”

“Just unfocus them,” Ranboo says, leaning over and tugging Tubbo away from the window. He waves a hand in front of his face, then smacks it into him as Phil steps on the brakes a little too hard. “Phil!”

“Oops,” Phil says, and Eret cackles beside them.

“My eyes!” Tubbo cries, waving his hands out and smacking Ranboo in the face. Then he leans forward, and Phil hunches down, trying to hide.

“No no no no,” Phil says, holding back laughter, and Eret laughs uproariously before getting smacked in the face himself.

“I’m blind!” Tubbo crows, fingers searching. “Help!”

“Oh god!” Ranboo cries, “he’s blind!”

“I swear to god,” Phil mutters, stifling his laughter and ducking again to miss a hand. “I will turn this car around.”

“Phil, turn it around! I’ve got to see a doctor!” Tubbo shouts, sounding pitiful and mischievous all at once. 

“We’re four hours into this mess!” Ranboo says, taking Tubbo by the shoulders and pulling him back. “I’ll fix your eyes! Let me at them!”

“You’re not a doctor!! AH--”

\----

Three hours later, the sun is setting, and Phil’s eyes are getting dry from how long he’s been looking at the road.

“What’s that song by the Journey?” Tubbo asks, having lied down at one point after claiming car sickness. He’s got his head in Ranboo’s lap, and Ranboo’s got his elbow on the door and one hand in Tubbo’s hair. Phil thinks it’s more likely that Tubbo ate too many gummy worms, and is worried about Tubbo wearing his seatbelt like that, but for now he allows it. “Y’know. That one song by The Journey?”

“What?” Eret asks, twisting a bit. “Give me the lyrics. I’ll google it.”

“It’s like--” Tubbo waves his hand in the air, a flash of fingers in the rearview mirror. Phil lifts a hand, rubs his eyes, and puts his blinker on to merge into the exit lane. He wants to find a motel, and soon. “No no no, it’s not by The Journey, it’s like-- _and I will walk ten thou_ \-- you know. _And I will walk five hundred more, just to be that man who walked one thousand MILES_ \-- before-- just.” Tubbo’s hand disappears. “You know!”

There’s a blank moment of silence.

“You know, that’s actually my favorite song--” Eret starts, all dry sarcasm.

“The way this trip is going I might just kill someone,” Ranboo groans, and Phil laughs and laughs and presses a fist to one eye, then the other.

“Tubbo that is not Journey, that is The Proclaimers,” Phil explains, tipping his head to follow the motel signs and pulling into the parking lot. “Please educate yourself, holy shit.”

“I’m young! I’m dumb! I’m tired!!” Tubbo crows, sitting up as the car slowly pulls to a stop. “Don’t blame me!”

“Thought I raised you better than this,” Phil grumbles, and Eret laughs quietly as they start to unpeel themselves from the car seats and stretch out. It’s been a long few hours, and Phil is more than ready to crawl into a shitty motel bed with a box of pizza and the telly on until they’re all asleep. It sounds heavenly.

It is heavenly, when an hour later, Phil is living that reality. Ranboo and Eret have claimed one queen and Phil and Tubbo share the other, Tubbo curled on his side and on his phone talking to Tommy as Phil stares blankly at the tv. They’d ordered pizza and the remnants lie scattered across the dresser, their stomachs full and warm. Ranboo’s already asleep it seems, based on how he’s tucked beneath blankets and is entirely quiet, the only sign of life the rise and fall of his chest. Eret had showered, and now they’d taken up a spot next to Ranboo and seemed to be mostly asleep as well. The curtains are drawn and only one lamp’s on-- Phil recognizes this liminal space they’re in, and enjoys it while he can. The soft sounds of the television are really the only ones for a bit, and he sinks into the silence.

“Phil?” Tubbo asks, and suddenly there’s a warm press against his side.

“What’s up, mate?” Phil asks, blinking open his eyes. He hadn’t been aware he’d even closed them for a second there. Tubbo’s pressed up against his side, phone lying back where he’d been before, screen still lit up and messages from Tommy flashing across the screen.

“You wouldn’t really leave me, right?” Tubbo asks. “On the side of the road?”

Phil knows where this is coming from, and quietly slings an arm around his kid’s shoulder.

“Aw, mate,” he says, giving Tubbo’s upper arm a squeeze. “‘Course not.”

“Promise?” Tubbo asks. Phil holds out the pinky of his free hand, and they shake on it.

“Promise,” Phil says. Seemingly satisfied, Tubbo grins, squirming away from him after a second and returning to his side of the bed and the flurry of angry messages Tommy’s surely already sent. Phil hadn’t really thought that much about the jokes-- he knew Tubbo’s history, he’d known it from the moment he’d picked up the kid’s case file and read it, and he thought Tubbo knew by now that Phil never meant anything. Maybe not, though, he thinks to himself. Maybe not. Phil lets his eyes shut and promises himself not to make any more like it tomorrow, and as the TV runs slowly drops off to sleep.

\----

The next morning, Phil wakes them up at a ridiculous hour in order to have some peace and quiet while they're still groggy.

“Can we go to McDonald’s?” Tubbo asks tiredly, rubbing at his face again. Ranboo’s still half-asleep, face smushed into the window and breath fogging it up, but at the mention of food he perks up a bit. Eret does as well, and he meets Phil’s tired gaze and tips his head.

“I’ll pay,” Eret offers, and Phil will absolutely take them up on that offer.

“McDonald’s it is,” he says, and they go to McDonalds. 

That coffee is probably the best part of the day for him, considering what happens next.

“Hey, Phil?” Tubbo asks, and Phil, who’s been blocking out Tubbo’s chatter for the past twenty minutes and nursing his coffee while driving, glances in the rearview.

“Yeah?” He asks. Tubbo turns from where he’d been peeking out the back window, and points.

“There’s black smoke coming out of the back pipe,” he says, still in that chipper tone.

“You mean the exhaust?” Eret asks.

“ _Shit_ ,” Phil says emphatically, and promptly moves to pull over.

This is the day everything seems to fall apart, including the shitty car that Phil had been trying to avoid driving long distances for ages until now. This car-- supposed to be Techno’s, but sort of adopted by the whole family at this point-- was old, frankly. Wilbur had taken the other one before Phil had worked anything out, which means that Phil is now stuck walking in circles around the stupid thing as he waits for a tow truck.

“Should we get out?” asks Tubbo, who’s leaning out the window and watching him pace. “Is it going to blow up? Surely not.”

“It’s not going to blow up,” Phil reassures him. “Stay in there.”

“You know, black smoke usually means it’s about to blow up,” Ranboo points out, his voice floating from inside to the out. Another car whizzes by on the highway, and Phil winces. Tubbo’s eyes go wide.

“Should we get out???” He asks. “Phil???”

“No!” Phil laughs, pressing a hand to his forehead and waving the other at him. “Don’t get out, I’d rather you die in a blown up car than run out into the road and get hit by one.”

“It’s definitely easier to corral us if we’re in here,” Eret says, but he’s also out of the car and coming around back. “Did you get a hold of the tow company?” They’d googled one in the area and Phil had called a few minutes ago, someone answering thank god.

“Yep,” Phil says, staring at his phone. “He said twenty minutes.”

“This is the best!” Tubbo says, hanging out the window still. “Broken down car!”

“How the fuck is this the best?” Phil asks, laughing again despite himself. “The car’s broke!”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” Ranboo drawls from inside. “We’re fine. This is fun!”

It is not fun. It is the “four hundred dollars and one hour of waiting” kind of not fun. Phil shells out the cash and they sit for a few minutes, before Tubbo’s eyes end up wandering to the wide expanse of pavement outside. It’s cracked but empty, and there’s an idea before Phil can discourage it.

“Let’s race,” he suggests, already halfway out the door with Ranboo in tow. Eret follows, because Eret is tall and good at running, Phil knows, and Phil follows so that when one of them inevitably falls down and scrapes their hands and knees he’ll be there to bandage them back up. The car is getting fixed and Tubbo’s marking a line into the asphalt of the parking lot with another rock, and then they’re lining up.

“On three,” Phil says, lifting a hand. He’s found it better to go along than argue, and this’ll pass the time for sure. “One, two, three--”

Ranboo wins the first one, easily.

“Again!” Tubbo shouts, breathless and laughing as he jogs back to their starting line. “Phil, you race this time too!”

“Absolutely not,” Phil says. His knees already hurt-- no way he’s going to mess with this. Tubbo just laughs and Eret and Ranboo line up again, bickering until Phil lifts his hand and counts once more. Tubbo consistently loses, and if Phil bothers to think back he thinks Eret and Ranboo have won pretty much the same number of times.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong!” Tubbo says at one point, sitting on the pavement as they catch their breath. “I’m running! How the hell am I not winning?!? Whyyyyyy….!”

“I bet it’s ‘cause you’re so short,” Ranboo teases, looking down from where he’s looming above Tubbo. It’s true-- Tubbo’s small, even smaller than Phil, and he doesn’t miss how Tubbo goes practically red with rage and scrambles to his feet.

“Again,” he insists. “I’ll win this time. I’m not short!”

Tubbo is short, and he does not win.

Eventually, Phil gets his keys and the car back and off they go once more, back on the highway with a newly-fixed car and the destination in sight. It’s only another four or so hours of driving until they reach the beach and the hotel they usually stay at, and according to Tubbo the other car is already nearly there.

“We’re going to miss out on so much,” Tubbo whines, and Eret rolls his eyes.

“There’s hardly things to miss,” he says, twisting. “Just sand and water. We’ll have plenty of time to explore when we get there.”

“It’s only another couple hours,” Phil reassures, glancing in the rearview. “Thank fuck.”

“I’m a delight,” Tubbo declares. “You’re all just mean.”

“You’re hopped up on every type of drug I can imagine,” Ranboo says, grinning as Tubbo whines and rolls his head back to complain. 

“I hate this road trip,” he gripes, sinking down in his seat. “This sucks.”

“Is this because we called you short?” Eret asks, turning their head to look. Tubbo throws his hands in the air.

“What! No!” He cries, then drags his hands down his face. Phil laughs, snickering into one hand and switching lanes carefully. The car’s still driving, and that’s all he’ll ask for right now. “I want to go hoooome.”

“We could’ve left you,” Phil points out, still laughing slightly. Tubbo doesn’t often get into these whiny, terrible teenager moods, but it’s more prominent now than ever for some reason. Phil thinks it might be because Tommy is in the other car, but there’s no way of knowing for sure. “At home? And just called you on the phone.”

“Noo, no, I don’t want to be on the phone,” Tubbo says, sitting back up. “You just hang up.”

“I’d throw the phone into the ocean,” Ranboo says helpfully. Eret bursts into laughter, loud and happy, and Phil reaches out to turn on the radio and fiddle with it a bit. 

Three and a half more hours, he thinks to himself. Three and a half.

“Can you tug the map out?” Phil asks, gesturing toward the glove box and nodding to Eret. In the back, Ranboo and Tubbo have somehow started talking about Star Trek of all things. Phil’s not about to ask about that, so he focuses on this for the moment. “I know the general directions, but the map has it marked.”

“Sure thing,” Eret says, and they ignore the noise in the back in order to lean forward and dig through the compartment. There’s the shuffling of papers for a second, and then Eret’s leaning back in their seat. “What’s it look like?” They ask.

“It’s got a red cover,” Phil explains, glancing over occasionally. “Should be right on top.”

“Right,” Eret says, and leans forward again to dig once more. “....I’m not seeing it,” they finally admit, leaning back in the passenger seat. Phil wrinkles his nose.

“Boys,” he calls back to the two in the back. “Check the pockets of our seats for the map, will you?”

“Uh oh,” Eret mutters, and Phil flaps a hand at him as Ranboo checks the seat pockets. 

“Nothing!” He says. “Sorry.” 

“Did you forget the map?” Tubbo asks, all glee and mischief. “Did you really, Phil? That’s like, your one job! To get us from point A to point B!”

“Wow,” Phil deadpans, trying to hide his mild panic. “I feel so appreciated as a father.”

“I’ve got service,” Eret says a moment later, and of course they’re the one coming to Phil’s aid in this moment despite the laughter. “I’ll GPS it. What’s the beach called?”

Phil rattles off the name of the beach and the hotel they stay at whenever they go, and thank god for Eret because Eret easily finds a map online and off they go. It’s more backroads and smaller highways now, and the hours pass as Phil and them figure out where to go and how to get there.

“Hey, Phil,” Tubbo asks, an hour and five renditions of Dead or Alive songs later. 

“Yeah?” Phil asks, and he glances in the rearview. Tubbo’s grinning, leaning forward, hands braced on both Phil and Eret’s seats.

“Are we there yet?” He asks, and Phil groans as Tubbo explodes into laughter. Ranboo pulls him back, and Phil drums his fingers on the wheel.

“You seriously did not just ask that--”

“ _Shut up_ , you--”

Time goes by, and the ocean gets closer and closer. At one point, Phil slows down on a back road, crawling past a patch of trees and points. There, behind them, is the glittering expanse of ocean that they’re aiming to swim in at some point today. Phil hopes it’s soon-- his butt hurts and he’s tired of driving. He’s tired of listening to the banter, no matter how amusing it can be at times. They travel closer and closer, and finally, Eret’s saying they’re nearby. Phil hasn’t been here in a few years, and yet, he recognizes a few things as the car trundles on.

“Please be there,” Phil mutters. Behind him, Ranboo and Tubbo are pressed against windows each, staring out at the ocean that is visible in one direction. Eret’s eyes are on their phone, directing Phil.

“Pull in here,” he says, pointing with one hand, and Phil pulls in. Thankfully, it’s a familiar sight.

“Thank fuck,” Phil says, slamming his head into the steering wheel as the hotel sign rises into view-- _The Mansion_ , in swirly dark ink-- and there, in the parking lot, is Phil’s car. The good car, the blue one that he had wanted to take originally and now is practically vibrating to see. “Holy shit, it’s over, we’ve done it.” 

“We’ve done it!” Tubbo cries, and the car might be a mess and there might be gummy worms stuck to the seats and crumbs everywhere, a mess of words and arguments and jokes the whole way here, but they’ve done it. 

“I feel like I’ve learned a lot,” Ranboo says, shaking his head up and down. “About all of us, as people.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, already parking and unclipping his seatbelt. “I’ve learnt you’re all more insufferable than I already knew.”

“Rude!” Tubbo calls, but he’s also bouncing to get out of the car and grab their things.

Phil steps out, inhales. He can smell the ocean, saltwater and sand-- it’s a good smell, and his shoulders relax slightly. Someone bolts out of the hotel’s front doors and by the shock of blond it’s Tommy, racing down the steps and bolting toward their car and more importantly, Tubbo. Techno’s there too in the door, Wilbur and Niki at his shoulder, and Fundy’s behind them with a wave and a shout. Phil grins.

Yeah, they’ve made it.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! this was fun to write and i hope you liked it as much as i did writing it. leave a comment/kudos if you did and be sure to check out my other works, which include a fun zombie AU with a happy ending and a "canon compliant" SBI backstory!


End file.
